Tender
by PepperF
Summary: In some things I'm powerless, and she makes me realise that. I can make her smile, but I can't make her forget. WARNING: Sadness ahoy.


_A/N: With thanks to VictorisFayeKiss, for pointing out that this had, for some reason, turned into a humorous Stargate fic. Don't know what happened there..._

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She watches me when she thinks I'm asleep. I don't open my eyes; I keep my breathin' slow and steady. She needs this time to herself, when it's quiet and dark out. When anyone else is around, even me, she tries to be strong, but she can't be like that all the time. I can smell the tears on her, and it damn near kills me to keep up the pretence. I don't know how I keep my hands loose at my side. I just keep tellin' myself over and over that she's gotta cry sometime.

I'm not as insensitive as they think. Okay, maybe they don't all think that, I ain't really been payin' attention lately. To be honest, I don't give a damn about anyone's opinion of me, other than my Marie. The rest of 'em can go to hell. Does that make me insensitive? Marie doesn't think so, and that's all that matters. I just wanna take care of her. I'd get her the moon if she asked. Or, well, no, I wouldn't. I can't. That's sorta the problem, in a way. Bein' with Marie made me realise just how powerless I really am. She makes me feel weak - not because of things she does to me, but because of things I can't do for her. Sometimes it's good to be weak, but sometimes it ain't. There's so many things I'd do for her, if only I could.

Sometimes I can't take the frustration, when she's hurtin' and I can't help. I have to get out for a while. I'm not used to it, I guess - I don't like bein' a victim of circumstance, or anything else. It don't come naturally. Even when those evil bastards took my memories and tried to make me into the perfect killing machine, even then I fought, I didn't give in. It was in the balance for a while, but they never broke me.

She could. Just like that. That scares the crap outta me, sometimes. Maybe I love her too much. My heart's been tenderised, like a steak - battered and beaten and easy to cut into, unlike my body. She makes me wanna run, and she makes me wanna stay forever, and she makes me want both those things at the same time. I'm used to livin' by my instincts, and it's fuckin' hard on me, sometimes. She knows it, though, and that's what makes me want one thing over all: I wanna take her away from all this, all the curious eyes and sympathetic smiles, and the constant undercurrent of danger that is life with the X-Men. I wanna make her forget them all, forget everything, even her own skin. I wanna make her forget everything except that I love her, and she loves me.

Like I say, in some things I'm powerless, and she makes me realise that. I can make her smile, but I can't make her forget.

It was good, at first - no fear. Nothing bad could happen when we were together, that's what it felt like, for the both of us. One day we'll have that again. At least, I pray for that feeling. That's something else she makes me do that I've never done before - pray for miracles. I don't believe, but for her sake I'll try any trick.

The one good thing about her skin is that she knows how I feel about her. After just that one touch, she knows I don't blame her - she knows I don't even think of it that way. She blames herself, I can't stop her doin' that. I'm not one to criticise, really: I blame myself, even though I know there's not a damn thing I could've done. I feel guilty that I couldn't have done anything. Once, I thought I could do anything I wanted, and I wish I'd been right. It's not fuckin' logical, I know, but there it is.

But it's not all bad. She gives me hope, too. Despite everything, she's so strong. She lets herself be weak at night - she _lets _herself - but in the day she makes the demons go away, just by her strength of will. I'm amazed again, every time, by just how strong she is. I watch her, sometimes, and even I can't see the hurt inside. I'm almost convinced it ain't there - if only I didn't know that she cries at night. The others don't see that, and they think she's makin' a "remarkable recovery". They pat themselves on the back for havin' helped her through a "difficult time". I ain't gonna enlighten 'em. It's none of their business, and pryin' minds ain't welcome, no matter how well meant.

She plays out on the lawn with Nathan every Saturday, still. Scooter and Jeannie offered to forego her babysittin' offer, but she told 'em she wouldn't let her life be dictated by a simple quirk of fate - and besides, they needed the time off. They did the telepathic talkin' thing, then they smiled and thanked her. Jeannie said that lookin' after a baby was exhausting, tryin' ta play down the fact that she was lovin' every minute of it, anyhow. They've all been lendin' a hand, anyhow, so it's not been too bad for 'em. Saturday morning is Marie's turn to get left holdin' the baby. From the very first time she made the offer, tryin' to be all casual, they said they didn't mind about the skin thing, that they knew she'd be careful. I wasn't sure how she'd take that, but it just made her really happy, so I never had the heart to object, even when I thought that it was monopolising time which'd be better spent with me. When I saw the tender smile on her face, lookin' down at the little critter, I just couldn't doubt that it was time well spent. I don't help, exactly, but I always watch her. Sometimes from a distance - Scooter's brat is a smelly little thing.

I watch her all the time, now. She knows about it when I'm close up, but I don't think she knows about it when I'm further off. I know she wouldn't appreciate the thought that I'm keeping some sort of surveillance on her, but I just can't help it. I wanna be there, if she needs me. I was there when it happened, for all the good it did. I smelled her blood from down the hall. I don't remember clawin' open the doors, the one to our room and then the one to the bathroom. I'd like not to remember findin' her, but that's one memory that won't go. She was shiverin', in shock, pale as a ghost, sat there in the bath with the taps runnin' full tilt, her clothes pluggin' up the drain and fillin' the tub with puddles of water and blood. It's a bit more memory than I can stand, and I can't think about it and keep a clear head.

That was such a brief dream we had, it seems like. Hardly worth the heartache it caused. It was such a short time, in fact, that we hadn't told anyone else about it, yet. The first they knew about the baby was when I was carrying Marie down the hall to the med lab, drippin' blood and water all the way, yellin' my head off for Jean. The rest of that time was a blur. I just remember someone sayin' "miscarriage". Then I knew it was too late for one of 'em, but I was damned if I was gonna stand by whilst Marie bled any more. I touched her, healed her body, and if only everything were that simple.

There was a lot of talkin' goin' on when I woke up again. When Marie started talkin' about "blame", as related to her mutation, I got pretty het up, and told her to take a look through the thoughts she musta pulled from me, and shut the hell up about it. She cried some more - I don't think she'd stopped - but at least she knew it wasn't anything to do with blame. Jeannie said it was an accident, which was nice but not much help. Some other idiot said it was fate. Scooter mentioned planning for another one, and I hadta be physically restrained from clawin' him. How the hell else did he think we'd done it in the first place, with her mutation? By fuckin' mistake?

In the end, though, all the plannin' in the world was just academic. Jean did tests, and Hank did tests, and everybody did tests, and one fact came out: what the heart wanted, the body wouldn't permit. Then they took away the saline drips and the microscopes and the kidney bowls and the test tubes and the rows of metal implements and left us the hell alone at last.

Marie whispered inta my shoulder that she was sorry. She said it was her skin, her fuckin' mutation, and that she was some kinda aberration, that God had made a mistake with her, and He could never have meant for her to have kids, 'cause it woulda been just too cruel to pass on her genes to anyone else. Fuckin' nearly killed me, to hear that comin' from her. I told her that she was the best thing that ever happened to me, she was a wonderful person, and it had nothin' to do with God or judgement or destiny or whatever, it was just chance. Sheer fuckin' bad luck, that's all. I don't know if she believed me, I coulda talked like Hank for all the difference it woulda made. All I could do was tell her how I felt.

So that was that. Nothin' we could do. She'll never have kids. Damn, I never trusted in science, but the facts were against me. They still ain't a hundred percent sure whether it's to do with her mutation, or if it's just how she'd be anyhow. Some time after, she mentioned that I still could, if I wanted - have kids, that is. That's the only time since that I've really gotten angry with her. Why the hell would I want kids with anyone else? I'd never given 'em a second thought, before Marie. She was so scared to suggest it, and I guess I wasn't so enthusiastic at first, but I'da given her anything, so a kid wasn't too much to ask for, right? But then that day she told me she'd done the test, that blue line thing, and that she really was pregnant - something in me just opened up. It was all real, and suddenly it dawned on me that I had a family, right there, and that nothin' could ever break a bond like that. It was something that connected us in such a basic way, and I never realised until that moment how much I'd been missin'. But to have that with someone else - no. I can't begin to imagine it. Marie's the woman I'd wanna raise a family with, she's the only one I want that kinda connection with. Why the hell would I want it with anyone else? I don't need people. I don't need kids. I need Marie.

And so life goes on. That mess of tissues that never had a chance, it was just one little blip on everyone else's radar. She curls close to me at night, and when she finally falls asleep I can open my eyes to watch over her. I wanna make sure nothing else can hurt her, ever again, but it ain't possible - it ain't even probable. All I can do is make sure I'm there when it happens, and let her know that I'm there for her to lean on, if she needs me. She does the same. I don't wanna do it, but she's the only one who knows my weakness. Everyone else thinks I'm the tough guy, that I'm over it. Only she knows that I loved and lost the kid, too. Only Marie. She shows me her tender side, and she makes it okay if I needta show her mine. She says that maybe it's harder on me than I think, 'cause I'm not used to dealin' with emotional stuff. So I let her watch over me, 'cause it makes her feel stronger, to feel like she's protectin' me, and in return I get to watch over her, to feel like I've got some kinda control over our lives. Sometimes I need that more than I'd ever thought possible.

THE END.


End file.
